Back to Marseille, back to you
by HimeVampireChan
Summary: Edmund returns to Marseille believing his happiness is lost forever; there, he hopes to find the only one who can understand him. Edmund/Mercedes, a year after the book's end. translated by Tsuyu ryu Thanks Rocio, I Love you!
1. Chapter 1

**Cualli Tonalli!!!!!!!!**

**Mi first history in english.**

**Hi, guys and girls who dare read my story! Now I'm in the company of the charming Edmund Dantes, yes, the handsome and charismatic Count of Monte Cristo. As I said in my profile, I love to read, and writing is my passion; this book is my favorite: so human, so 'alive', and I'm surprised to see there are not too much fics about it. So, I decided to put this one, and I hope someone reads it.**

**Before starting with the story, I'd like to write a small introduction: We are humans, we make mistakes, we suffer and we rejoice; we are fragile and clumsy, but that is what makes our race more valuable… and also more dangerous. We're excessively selfish creatures, and we crave for company –sometimes- without noticing the consequences of our acts. In this story, I want to show this feeling as it is. And show one of the biggest fears we can experience: the fear of being alone, it's one of the most painful feelings we can feel. This book is my favorite because it finds humanity and the purest love among the most terrible action: the most sublime revenge, in which one can find justice but also a lot of pain.**

**Why someone who feared to be alone, and acted due to that fear, must be condemned to suffer it after believing happiness was returning to her? Why should she be forgotten by the one who took her life away and gave it back, the one who occupies the place of providence and who swore loving her even despite of time?**

**This is the story of the Count of Montecristo and his dear friend, because we all DESERVE A SECOND CHANCE **

**COUNT OF MONTECRISTO**

**Back to Marseille, back to you**

**Chapter 1**

The raindrops hit my window, and its sound mixes with the cries in this room. This pain… when did this pain was born?

I open my eyes and, in the darkness, I can see the shoes I'm wearing; my body is numb after hours of being in the same position, and in my forehead the shape of my hands can be seen, still clutching my temples.

How long had I been here? How long I've been crying in the dark? I'm not sure if it's been minutes, days or even months; but I know the suffering is strong, and that I'm capable of staying like this longer than necessary.

Why am I suffering? The reason is still hard to accept. My beloved Haydée lays asleep in that cemetery. Ah, my poor dear! Victim of tuberculosis, now your body is dead!

I hide my face in my hands while new tears come to my eyes, I repeat her name as I've done for some time, trying to find something to calm me down among my pain, my loneliness.

A knock in my door releases me briefly from my reverie; they must be worried outside. I hear the whispers of my servants, my loyal and dear friends who had not abandoned their lord in this madness and loss. Oh, good Bertuccio, Bautiste and Ali! Now, not even their presence eases my pain; is better for them to leave me, to let me suffer in a sleepless dream.

The steps outside are moving away, they understand I whish to be alone and that I don't want to go out; my body is tired, and my soul broken. But its not the pain of hunger or loss what makes me cry now, but the fear.

My body trembles thinking about what is yet to come; I feel terrified knowing I'm alone, seeing in my future the dark and cold loneliness, the same that welcomes you in the cell of a prison.

God, why do you make me suffer like this?

To me, the one you condemned to that cruel castle at the innocent age of 19, and then gave me the joy of taking the place of providence: to reward the innocents and punish the evil!

Now you make me pay for being a vengeful god, and my fees are full with pain.

I'm alone, alone again in this cruel and senseless world! I feel I'm going crazy, I hadn't felt this fear before, and I'm sure death would be sweet on my lips, like sweet nectar to ease my despair! I bury my fingers in my long dark hair, while I start to cry like a little child.

"Haydée… Haydée…" I hear my own voice but I don't recognize it, it's a ghostly echo which repeats her name over and over again; a flash of lightning illuminates my room, while in my dream I whisper a name that I never thought I'd say again.

"Mercedes…"

I rise my head slowly, changing my position for the first time in a long time. In front of me, sitting in the bed, he watches me from the full-body mirror: my reflection. I look at my dark eyes, wide open looking at me with surprise; a new flash of lightning illuminates the earth, and my lips open to let it out without doubts.

"Mercedes…"

My hands fall lifeless while I stand up, impressed at what I've seen; my body hurts for the sudden change, my legs go numb for an instant; I walk doubtfully towards that soft illusion, I stretch my hand to let my fingers touch the cold mirror.

I look at my features in that darkness, I watch them clearly with each flash of lightning brought by the rain. My body, my face, everything in me has changed without being different, this Count of Montecristo is no longer the same… Edmund Dantes is back!

"Mercedes…" my lips whisper again, and for a moment the pain disappears. God, so much peace and sanity that name brings!

Why now? I think while walking in the room, why her?

I stop in front of the window that gladly receives the raindrops, and I let myself wonder inside my mind, with no need to surrender to the pain.

Its been a year already since I left Paris, since I came to the Orient to forget my past along with Haydée, after achieving my vengeance against those sinners, and after leaving in Marseille to the one I once loved. Now her name returns to me, filling my spirit with peace, but… why?

I close my eyes and I can't understand this feeling, I watch it as if in a dream; I still see her when, as children, we dreamed with building a home in our loved mother country; I remember her laughs, and her adorable blushes; when I arrived from my expeditions in The Faraon and she ran towards me to welcome me… and the last time I saw her when, after abandoning her home and her wealth as Countess of Morcef, went to live where she'd lived her youth, completely alone and crying the loss of her son, in that room that I once called home.

My dear friend! Why do I remember you within this torment? Why do I feel the desire of going with you and share my pain? Why do I know that you can understand me?

The soft advance of a memory comes to me, and I heard clearly the tone of her voice, her words distorted by weeping; I watch her kneeled in front of me, begging me for her son's life while burying her face in her hands.

In that moment I felt revulsion for that beautiful young man, product of the marriage between my beloved and that cursed Fernand; I feel hate when I see her arrive to beg for their lives. However, what I felt the most was pain; my heart and soul filled with that sensation when she, at my feet, blamed herself for what had happened.

Oh, my friend! I never blamed you for that, neither did I hate you, but I don't deny that my hear broke in thousand pieces when I knew you didn't wait for me, that when I was gone you accepted that catalan's hand and, with him, you formed what we'd planned for years.

Sweet, innocent soul! I've always wished to know why, even when you said you loved me, that you'll wait for me eternally, you never fulfilled your promise.

Now I think of you, in the moment I see my happiness destroyed! Even if I won't deny that during this long year my mind sometimes was directed towards you, knowing that I still couldn't find and answer for your acts.

I turn around and walk in silence inside the room which has been witness of my pain, but the sound of her cries comes to me in a new memory…

"Ah, what a terrible vengeance, for a crime that fatality made me commit! Because it is I who is guilty, Edmund…" she says while she watches me with her dark eyes filled with tears. "… and if you wanted revenge it should have fell upon me, because I had not the strength to resist your absence and the loneliness"

Loneliness… loneliness… LONELINESS

That word repeats itself over and over in my mind, while my chest collapses in pain; the fear takes over me again and I feel like falling, but I slowly walk again towards that mirror in the wall. I caress my reflection and my lips tremble when I speak.

"You felt afraid…" I whisper, while in my mind her face stained with tears appears again, "… the same fear I feel now when I see myself alone"

I need to say it out loud, to explain it carefully; now I remember that I felt this fear in that dark room of the Chateau D'If, that my mind blocked every kind of light, drowning even more in darkness, and the only solution that I saw for that horror was… death.

I open my eyes, and my gestures fill with panic: I've condemned her at hell itself, I've made her wish death!

Oh, Mercedes… I've abandoned you, I've left you when I couldn't see your biggest fear! Why couldn't I see it before? The revenge, the hate blinded me, and I couldn't see the real damage I caused you… now I understand that we both suffered for my acts, but only I ended satisfied and found happiness alongside Haydée, but… you? What has been of you, my love? Perhaps… it is too late?

The panic takes over again, I ran to the door and open it quickly calling my servants; in my mind I repeat over and over again the punishment that I, as executioner, gave to that poor woman. To my beloved friend!

"Bautiste, Bertuccio… ALI!" I scream while I hear people approaching. Their voices come to me, surprised at seeing me going out of the room.

"My lord, oh, how joyfull!" exclaims a young man with wise stare that has been under my service since I came to the Orient. "You finally have gone out of your room! It's…"

"Not now!" I interrupt him and, staring at my most loyal friends, I say, "Bertuccio, Baptiste, prepare my ship!"

The looks they give me are full of surprise and confusion, but they nod and start to work, they go away and I search among the faces surrounding me until I found the one I'm looking for.

"Ali, prepare the luggage!" I say while watching the Arabic man, and then I look at the brown-eyes boy that I'd interrupted moments before.

"Where are you going, master?" he asks me with shaking voice, confused. My heart beats painfully when I answer.

"To Marseille!"

----------------------------------------

The sun comes out in the horizont greeting Marseille, the stores open in the little streets and the sounds of the people flood the environment; so simple and yet, beautiful.

Slowly, the light enters in the room, entering shyly through the window to be received by the dark eyes of a beautiful woman who, as everyday, watches the sky from her house.

Long sighs come out of her lips, and as always the tears come to her face without warning. Leaning her body in the frame of the window, she receives a nice breeze with the smell of the sea and, opening her mouth slowly, she calls the one she loved, loves and will love until the end of her days.

"Edmund" she whispers, while a smile full of sadness illuminates her face. Thank God, there was not much time left to keep pronouncing that name!

With deliberate calm, she turned around and, putting a short coat over her shoulders, she went out to walk and think again the plan she'd created.

Mercedes Herrera was born in Marseille and there would she die, even if she had to cause it!

**Continue….**

**Tlazohcamati huel miac!!!!**


	2. Arriving memories

**Cualli Tonalli!!!!!!!!**

**Mi first history in english.**

**Chapter 2**

**Arriving memories**

Its strange how the sea can calm people down: its movement, its sound, its soft salty scent; but that man's spirit was uneasy, and not even the strongest of drugs would make him sleep.

Edmund Dantes had spent hours walking in the bow of the ship, waiting impatiently to see the port that would indicate he was in Marseille. He couldn't deny he felt greatly excited, but that feeling was blocked by the guilt and pain. He was unhappy, more than he'd been before!

During the journey, he hadn't stopped evaluating his life; over and over he observed the events that had took him to this place, and the damned he'd left behind. And now, he was shaking from head to toes, afraid of himself.

The sound of footsteps made him turn around; Ali approached with a tray of food in his hands and, after a respectful look towards Dantes, left the food in a place nearby and waited. Edmund sighed when he noticed he was trying to persuade him to eat again; with a nod he thanked the gesture and ordered the Arabic man to retreat, but he didn't move.

Sighing again, the Count turned again and continued walking through the ship, while biting his lip impatiently. How long would it take to arrive?

"Land!" exclaimed a voice to answer his question, the crew started moving around, preparing to disembark; he ran to the tip of his ship and, with eyes wide-open, watched in front of him as the port of Marseille appeared. His stomach filled with butterflies, and a lump in his throat prevented him from swallowing, but he lowered his eyes calmly, and whispered for himself this words:

"I'm back, only for you!"

--------------------

Over the sea, high above the rocks in which the waves hit, there was the huge viewpoint that showed Marseille's port; the place was so high that the wind blew furiously for anyone who stopped to watch.

The lonely silhouette of a woman watched the arriving ships of that clouded morning, and she remembered, sighing, that none of those ships would bring her beloved back.

"Soon…" she murmured with an indifferent tone, "… all this will be over"

------------------

The same sounds, the same scents, all this place was exactly as he remembered. When he landed, a sincere happiness had taken over him. How deny the homesickness?

With his usual naturalness, he ordered the search for a room in an Inn and, saying no more, he left.

His feet carried him to known places: the streets where he ran as a kid in front of the house where he met that catalan girl; but he felt surprised when he found himself at the shore, where he could see that terrifying castle, which had deprived him of his freedom and youth.

His whole body shuddered while he remembered one by one the nights of torment: the taste of that poor food returned to his mouth, forcing him to convulse in disgust; the cold enveloped him as if he were inside those humid walls, and to his mind returned the name of "number 34"

He'd been just a child! He was 19 years old when he lost his soul entirely! Destroying the good and innocent young man to allow the birth of fatality!

The Count of Monte Cristo was someone vengeful, disguised, evil and impassive, capable of waiting more than two decades to fulfill a sublime vendetta, made with the most implacable hate and the most diabolical perfection.

"Horror for those I've found in my way!" said to himself, while clenching his fist with sorrow. "Is not that the choice I made?"

Turning his back to that horrifying construction, he continued his way while bitterness filled his soul. "Horror" he whispered again.

He walked unconsciously, and suddenly found himself watching that window in which his father welcomed him with the warmest of smiles, but the light was out and his little walk had made time go too quickly; now Marseille was covered in the silence of the night.

Whishing to see that woman of dark eyes, Edmund turned around and walked towards the inn where he hoped to rest. Tomorrow, the executioner would join the condemned to talk!

**Continue….**

**Tlazohcamati huel miac!!!!**


	3. A wise friend

**Cualli Tonalli!!!!!!!!**

**Mi first history in english.**

**Chapter 3**

**A wise friend**

Edmund Dantes drank a cup of coffee while, sitting in the hall of that beautiful house, meditated. Without opening his mouth, he turned to see the inn; comfortable and simple, just as he liked.

It was a very good choice to ask his servants to be discreet about his arrival; until the afternoon, he'd heard rumors about the visit of a wealthy man to the port of Marseille, and that would surely complicate even more his mission to find Mercedes.

A sigh escaped his lips thinking about that woman's name; he touched softly with his thumb the edge of the cup, while the soft scent of the herbs filled his senses.

He was still confused by the way he'd acted when thinking that the beautiful Catalan could decide to end her life. The idea terrified him; and now he had to face it, after a long time of absence.

What would she think? Would she accept him? Or, maybe… was it too late? He felt his body shudder and, taking a deep breath, tried to calm down. He softly pressed his fingers against his nose and closed his eyes.

A soft laugh was heard in that room, forcing Dantes to raise his head; he turned towards the entrance and was amazed to see a man smiling warmly at him. The stranger had approached when he'd felt completely alone and safe from the curious.

When their eyes met, Monte Cristo felt an incredible bond with that man, and watching his face he memorized his features: wise brown eyes, lined by the delicate wrinkles of age; gray hair which fell in strange locks over his front and neck; a sweet mouth that, even despite the age, had the vitality to keep a warm, innocent smile; over it, a soft moustache that, under the light, emitted soft flashed of silver in his perfect nose. All in that man made him think about a caring, protective father.

"Excuse me, monsieur" said the stranger. "But I saw you sitting here, and I wonder if you'd like some company"

The deep voice of the man surprised Dantes who, standing up, indicated with a gesture the chair next to his.

"Company is appreciated in every occasion" he answered while inviting the old man, who smiled kindly and –walking with incredible grace- took a seat.

Both observed each other for several minutes in silence; Edmund felt this man knew everything about him, as if he knew him since forever, but he was still a stranger. The guest's eyes shone in a strange way, as if he knew what was Dantes thinking.

"I beg you to forgive my modals!" suddenly exclaimed the old man. "Allow me to introduce myself…"

The stranger stood up and, offering his right hand to Monte Cristo, said, "My mane is Alexander Dumas; I'm a novelist and live in Paris"

"It is an honor, Mr. Dumas" Monte Cristo returned the gesture with a smile, and the old man sat again.

"And you, my good friend, How should I address you?" Edmund blushed in embarrassment noticing his mistake, but the soft and calm laugh of Dumas calmed him down.

"The Count of Monte Cristo, at your service" he answered, fixing his black eyes in the brown ones, causing that strange connection between the two to surge again.

With a serene smile, Dumas took out a pipe and a bag of tobacco from his jacket; he placed them over the table and looked at Edmund with alert eyes.

"Would you accept, my friend?" the old man offered, while filling the pipe with a subtle movement; Dantes smiled but rejected the offer shaking his head.

"I see…" the man exclaimed with complicity, "… you don't like to smoke"

"It is not one of my favorite activities…" Monte Cristo answered while returning an amused smile; with his hand he took a cup and, raising the teapot, watched the man intently. "Would you like some?"

Alexander accepted, and for a moment his face was covered by the tea's steam, which felt silently in the porcelain cup.

A sweet sound came out of the man's throat and he closed his eyes, delighted. Dantes placed the teapot delicately on the table and watched attentively his companion's gesture.

"Herbal tea…" he said, taking a deep breath, and the tips of his lips curved in a pleased smile. "… nothing better to calm down"

Edmund felt as a lump formed in his stomach, and the anguish returned almost with the same strength it had in the morning. He lowered his head, confused, forgetting for an instant the man who made him company.

Dumas' experienced eyes searched that young man's face that, even if he wasn't older than 40 years, gave the impression of being much older: the smooth, pale skin was a contrast with his eyes, black and devoid of brightness, framed by a soft violet, clear indication that he hadn't slept for a while. His mouth was still young, light and remarkable over a little black beard, his black hair felt with grace covering his shoulders. He seemed tired and confused.

"If I'm not being indiscreet, my friend, I'd like to ask you…" that old man said the words with fluency but caution; with again attracted Dantes' attention. "… What brought you to Marseille?"

In Edmund's mind the events occurred in the last weeks showed again: Haydée's death, the funeral in his garden, the nights crying, the memories, Mecedes' condemnation and his rushed trip to his natal land. All so soon, all so strange.

Dumas realized Monte Cristo's attention was dispersing again. He lighted up his pipe and let the man meditate; the smoke rose slowly, forming different shapes.

"I'm so sorry!" Edmund exclaimed after a while. "I think I'm not a very good company"

Dumas smiled, while moving the pipe out of his lips and shaking his head. "On the contrary, Monsieur, you've managed to keep my entire attention"

Both watched each other for some minutes, trying to decipher the other's thoughts, with no results. The tea's scent combined strangely with the tobacco, causing the air in the room to be dense.

"Maybe you need someone with whom sharing your problems, my dear friend" it was a statement, and Edmund noticed it. No doubt this man was different; he could read him like a book.

With him he felt comfortable, and trusted him blindly. Something he could only share with few people; after all, it was in his nature to be always a little distrustful with others. Ah, the irony!

Dumas saw the doubt in Dantes' black eyes and, smoking slowly his pipe, allowed his face to relax in a friendly smile.

"My dear friend, there are two things that can make a man talk without fear or remorse" Edmund gave him a confused look, while the good man raised his index finger.

"One: huge amounts of good liquor…" Edmund smiled, amused, while he watched a second finger rise in that pale hand, "… two: a friend"

"A friend?" Dantes repeated while the smile disappeared from his face and his look became cold. Dumas watched his reaction.

"Someone who listen to you for no special reason" Dumas explained, indifferent, "… simply, someone who sits at your side without waiting something in return"

Dantes' dark eyes obscured even more, and the old man saw it through a cloud of smoke; the room was filled with a dense silence.

"Friends don't exist" was Monte Cristo's frail answer. "Nor true friendship"

"Do you really think so, or aren't you sure of it?" Dumas looked at him out of the corner of his eye while he let the smoke out of his mouth slowly. Edmund turned quickly while giving him his emptiest look.

"I don't believe it, I don't know!" he roared, clenching his hands over the table. "Two long decades taught me so, and that's the only truth I know"

"Just like the truth of not trusting in anyone?" Dumas interrupted while his face became inscrutable; Dantes remained silent while both stared at each other, refusing to break that absolute silence.

Suddenly, Dumas' look softened, and he smiled warmly at Dantes, leaving him totally disarmed.

"My dear, we're here like two men, two strangers who only search a little company and a conversation free of hypocrisy" the old man said calmly. Edmund opened his mouth, confused.

"I don't want to know about you to start rumors, nor do I care if you trust me totally; the only thing I want is to help you with something that obviously hurts you, while I obtain merely your company"

Monte Cristo looked at him wide-eyed. The words of that man seemed to him so sincere and sweet, they'd given him a comfort he had lost a long time ago. The old man offered him his silence, his understanding, his… friendship?

Dantes' dark eyes were lost in his companion's while trying to find an answer, a secret reason for the man's attitude; but, mucho to his regret, the only thing he found was sincerity and experience.

He let out a long, resigned sigh and hid his face in his hands; he felt a hand on his shoulder, but was afraid of looking up.

"You don't have to trust me" someone repeated in a whisper at his side. He felt as Dumas sat again on the chair and smoked his pipe patiently. Unsure, Edmund raised his head and crossed his hands over the table.

"It's a long story" he explained with sorrowful voice while attracting his companion's attention; the man smiled kindly.

"And I've lived a lot; I think…" he laughed in complicity. "… I can resist a long night"

The night passed slowly as Monte Cristo told his story, explaining his feelings to that stranger who wanted to help him. The words came out of his lips without noticing it and the pain grew even more, while the night got older. Alexander listened to every word without interrupting or showing any feeling.

At the end, the room was in deep silence as the tears fell one by one through Dantes' cheeks, after being kept hidden for so long.

"And now…" Dumas remained sitting with his fingers intertwined in front of his mouth; the pipe rested in an ashtray, and the old man's stare went from it to the young man in front of him. "… have you returned because you feel sorry for what you did?"

Edmund rose his stare, still wet, and tried o answer, but the words stuck on his throat causing him pain. He lowered his head, and hid his face in his hands again, ashamed, nodding.

The silence formed again, he could hear the seconds pass in his pocket watch, but each one seemed an hour of torture.

"I can't understand it" Dumas said in a whisper, almost as if talking to himself; Dantes' body tensed.

"Are you sorry for getting your revenge or…?" he turned his face slowly, "… for the way you left that poor woman?"

Their eyes met and stared at each other as if the question had nothing to do with the situation. Monte Cristo straightened up, cautious, without taking his eyes off his companion.

"Perhaps…" he let out with hoarse voice and incredulous expression. "… have you not listened what I've told?"

"I've given you my entire attention, so much that I can even tell you in which moments your voice broke" the old man answered politely, while the shadow of a smile appeared in his lips.

"Then…" he continued, while the rage filled his face. "… How is it possible that you didn't understand anything?"

"I've heard the reason that took you to achieve such a sublime vengeance, and I've understood it!" Dumas answered quietly. "However, my dear friend, I don't understand the reason for his regret"

Edmund frowned, confused. What did he meant exactly?

Dumas watched him for several seconds in a mysterious way, which made him shudder.

"What I mean is…" the old man broke the silence softly.

"You explained all this to her just as you did to me; Mercedes knew his wishes, and supported his revenge. If that's the case… Why do you feel guilty?"

Monte Cristo understood immediately, and he asked himself the same question for several minutes. Why? She had abandoned her life just to stand out of his way of revenge, she'd thanked him for taking her back to Marseille and she assured she3 didn't hate him. Then, why?

The answer didn't come to him and, however, he felt it present; his heart burned with her, and he could taste it clearly. The old man's stare became sweet as he opened his lips to finally answer him.

"Because you still love her, my son!"

Edmund watched him with eyes wide-open, and he shook his head doubtfully. "How can you say that?"

"Because it's easy to see it" Dumas answered with indifference. But Edmund looked at him intently, denying his answer.

"No, I love Haydée!" he screamed, standing up.

"I don't deny that you loved her, I'd never deny such thing" he calmed him down with a hand gesture, and invited him to sit again. Edmund reluctantly returned to his place.

"You loved the beautiful young woman with whom you lived in Orient, but you never stopped loving Mercedes. Or are you going to tell me that you never searched for her in Haydée?"

The question confused Monte Cristo completely. Search for her? Mercedes in Haydée?

He remembered looking into the eyes of the one he once called daughter and searching for the dark pupils of the Catalan; he missed the scent of the sea and Mercedes' brown lips, and he thought about that many times while holding Haydée. Remorse fell over him like a pail of cold water, but even with that he knew the love for Haydée had been true.

He fixed his eyes in the old man's, who respectfully remained silent at his side, and shook his head again, trying to convince his companion… and himself.

"Maybe you don't want to realize it, my friend…" sighed Dumas. "… but, sooner or later, you will"

Is it possible to threaten in that way? With such sweetness. No, that couldn't be a threat.

"After all…" the man continued, while the smile was evident on his tone. "… one does not love truly more than once"

Those words! He remembered hearing them before, in a party in Paris; there was a beautiful greenhouse and the moon shone over his head, Mercedes Herrera offered him a cluster of grapes with her eyes full of hope.

"More than once…" Monte Cristo repeated, distracted. They remained silent for some time, which passed quickly.

"I know it's hard, my dear, but I hope you realize the truth… before it's too late"

Dumas' voice was sweet, but deep down the pain was evident.

Monte Cristo turned again towards the man, who watched the hour in his pocked watch. Then both looked at each other and, for no reason, smiled without hypocrisy, just a sincere smile.

"My good friend, we've talked for so long; it is past for in the morning already and I think this old man must retire" Dantes felt a smile forming in his lips and, as when he was young, laughed for no reason.

"I thought you'd said you could bear a long night?" his voice was clear, he felt surprised at how natural it was to speak with the old man.

Dumas smiled cunningly while he shrugged; it seemed as if both were close friends, almost family.

"I could bear one or two nights, but it is not right for men to stay awake when they have things to do"

"Very wise" Monte Cristo agreed. "I wish to ask you something, if it's not a bother"

"Whatever you want" Dumas accepted. "as long as it is in my power to answer"

Edmund intertwined his hands and fixed his stare in that man, with a strange mixture of feelings.

"Will you share your glories and sorrow with me, as I've done with you?"

Dumas watched him perplexed for a moment, but his eyes recovered his fatherly air and, placing his hand in Monte Cristo's shoulder, answered:

"Isn't that what friends do?"

What a wonderful answer he'd obtained! Could the word 'friendship' seem more real to him? Could he deny again its existence? The answer was simple and definitive: No, he couldn't.

Dantes shook hands with the man strongly and warmly, while he smiled like he hadn't done since long ago; Dumas watched the light that appeared in those black eyes, and felt happy for a soul that had broken one of the many chains imprisoning it. There were only a few left until he could be happy and free.

"Then, when, would I be able to speak with you again?" Monte Cristo said enthusiastically, causing the laugh of the man.

"Not this morning" the man answered calmly, patting the brunette's hand. "In some moment, will be; you just need to trust that moment will come and wait for it"

**Continue….**

**Tlazohcamati huel miac!!!!**


	4. The stare

**Cualli Tonalli!!!!!!!!**

**Mi first history in english.**

**Chapter 4**

**The stare**

Morning arrived with amazing speed. He remained sitting in that room, completely alone while the cup of tea grew cold in his hands. The strange stare of his previous companion remained fixed in his memory with perfect clarity, and that rose inside of him a strange feeling of warm; he felt good, he felt stronger.

The sun entered shyly through the windows and illuminated his face. It made him smile involuntarily; at his back, he heard steps getting closer and, turning around, received Ali with a big smile.

"It is time, my friend. Time to go to the town" his tender voice surprised the slave who, nodding, smiled.

Marseille was full of life, and the longing of the previous day returned, taking refuge in Dantes' chest. The steps carrying him towards that humble house were firm and sure, he wanted… no, he whished to arrive there.

The nobles watched him pass and whispered among them different kinds of comments, which he didn't care to listen. He walked through Noailles street, and entered inside the building at the left of Meillan; it was then when he found himself standing in front of that window, the home of his friend, his beloved Mercedes.

He felt the beating of his heart in his ears, and his hands trembled when he heard that voice, a voice he would recognize in any place. He was alone; he'd asked Ali to wait outside and, even if he was afraid of the woman's reaction, he was happy, strangely happy.

The door opened with torturous calm, and his body betrayed his mind when, as a child in love, hid behind a bush. He cursed himself mentally and repeated to himself he was no child, and that he had to face her as an adult. However, he betrayed himself again when he saw her.

Mon Dieu! How long had it been? How was it possible that she hadn't changed a bit? The only word that came to his mind was: Beautiful, eternally beautiful.

-----------------------------

She went out as every morning, with slow steps and her heart in her hands. The long white dress she was wearing was a farewell, a silent goodbye to what once she called life, for that same afternoon her life would end. With a soft smile and sweet words, she said hi to the manager and, opening the door to the garden, started her trip.

The sunlight, poor in that clouded morning, caressed the flowers in a basket close by, painting in her brown skin a weak rainbow that made her smile bitterly. She walked with unconscious grace towards the tree, and took in her delicate hands a blue flower; then, after cutting it, she placed it over her chest with an audible sigh. She closed her eyes while inhaling the sweet fragrance, without noticing that someone watched her with infinite tenderness, not too far away.

She opened her eyes and, after watching her home for the last time, walked towards salvation, salvation which would condemn her soul eternally.

--------------------------------------------

He saw her exiting the garden, the blue flower still tightly pressed against her chest. His heart beat furiously; to be able to see Mercedes' face so closely after a year of absence had disturbed him, and he'd thanked (God knew how much!) that she hadn't found him in that moment. It took him some seconds to realize she was gone, and another few to dare following her.

He was surprised to see the woman hadn't paid attention to the carriage parked outside, nor had she recognized that black man who scared with his presence to the people passing by. With a gesture of his hand, he ordered Ali to wait, and followed Mercedes.

It was an odd situation; he could see her walk a few steps ahead and her fragrance arrived to him with the wind. But the woman seemed absorbed, detached from the world and the people surrounding her.

Monte Cristo stopped while following her with his eyes. It was correct what he was about to do? What if she didn't need his attentions? What if he only damaged her with his arrival? Those questions plagued his mind for some seconds, and disappeared the moment he heard the whispers of a group of women not too far away from him.

"Is that woman again" said one of them. "… it makes me shudder only to see her"

"Me too…" added another. "… she looks like a tortured ghost, se always goes out alone and doesn't speak to anybody"

"It seems to me that poor woman has nothing left in this life" said the third one with a rude, arrogant tone.

Monte Cristo frowned when he noticed the women's stares; Didn't they had better things to do than intruding in others' lives? He'd always felt amazed at how people never got bored of gossip. But, unfortunately, they seemed to have more information about Mercedes than him, and he needed to know the details.

He sighed and, placing in his face the most charming smile he could make, he approached the women that, immersed in her whispers, hadn't even seen him.

"Good morning to you, fair ladies!" he said, making a reverence. The group of women turned, and blushed when they looked at him intently; the good man could almost read their thoughts: What a handsome and wealthy man! A perfect catch for their daughters.

"Good morning, Monsieur!" said the older, the mother, while looking at Monte Cristo upside down. "What a beautiful morning we have today, don't you think?"

Edmund shuddered when he heard the woman's selfish tone; no doubt she hoped to learn a new topic to tell other people later.

"You're absolutely right, madame, I can't imagine a better morning" answered Dantes with a smile, causing the younger women to sigh.

"And you, gentleman, what brought you to a little town like this one?" the one who seemed to be the oldest daughter asked with unnecessary interest. "Surely, someone with such good air as you has something more important to do than walk and talk with the ladies"

The group laughed soundly, causing Dantes to shudder again.

"No, not at all, Cherie" he answered, hiding behind the indifference. "Just senseless matters, with no importance; but its not because of it that I've approached such an… interesting group of ladies"

The women exchanged significant looks among them, and then laughed again. The youngest of the group (she seemed more than 20 years old) approached Monte Cristo.

"Really? And to what do we owe your sudden attention, monsieur?" asked the young woman, with evident Nordic features, with an air of complicity while blinking her big blue eyes quickly.

"I just whished to know if you, my dear, could inform me about the catalan that passed by"

Monte Cristo's tone was innocent, but caused in that group a sense of disappointment; however, the excitement about a new topic of conversation was greater, and they answered without doubts.

"That woman, good man, is nothing but a person who has lost everything in life" answered the oldest daughter with contempt.

The mother walked slowly towards Edmund and, intertwining her arm with his right one, whispered into his ear with the alarming tone of gossip. She covered her mouth with her fan, to add a touch of complicity to their union.

"Nobody knows who she is really… I know from a good source that she was born here, and that for some strange event she lost the man she was supposed to marry when she was young…" the old woman pressed herself closer against Monte Cristo's shoulder and he didn't reject the gesture, more for courtesy than for wish.

"Nobody knows what happened with that man, but they say she married another man because she was pregnant with the first one's child…" the surprise was great, but Dantes knew it wasn't true, it couldn't be. He listened attentively to what the woman had to say, looking for an answer. "…they both left and nothing more was known of the couple until a year ago, when she returned to Marseille accompanied by another man, younger than she. It is said they were lovers, but the man left leaving her alone here. It seems he boarded a ship to the India or the Orient"

Ah, the irony of gossip! Can one be sure of the truth of it? No, one can't. The impression disappeared as soon as it arrived.

"Every afternoon…" continued the youngest of them. "… she goes out of that poor room in which she lives, and walks: first to the church, and then she goes to the viewpoint, where she cries until the sun sets; at last, she returns to her room. Alone and in silence, like a tortured soul"

The three women looked one at another amused; waiting for the answer of the man they'd given their attention to, but the handsome man of dark eyes remained immutable.

"I see…" he said, after some seconds. "… a tortured soul"

"Don't pay attention to that kind of people" said the mother with calming tone, while patting softly Dantes' arm. "I'm sure that people as important as you are interested in creating links with more sophisticated persons"

The three women laughed again, but the reaction of that extravagant man took them by surprise.

"Thank you very much" he said with a cold, calculating voice before releasing himself from the old woman's grip, turning around and leaving. The women looked at each other, upset, and then left.

Monte Cristo walked to the church, while deciphering the words of those women:

The young man they mentioned, that lover had to be no other than Albert Morcef. It was obvious considering the last part of the story: that child left his mother to help in Orient. About she being pregnant while he was imprisoned, it was nothing but a stupidity; he'd been young and deeply in love, but he was no fool and his father had raised him properly. He would never do something to damage Mercedes, or compromise her in any way.

About everything else, it was obvious they didn't know about the countess life she'd experienced in Paris, and about the whereabouts of her beloved (his whereabouts) everyone had thought that Edmund Dantes had died in the Chateau D'If; that he'd rotten in memory and that his body had fed the fishes. It was perfectly normal that no one knew the exact story.

He surprised to find himself standing in front of the church where he thought many times he'll make the catalan his wife. According to those women, Mercedes would be there. Sighing, he crossed himself and entered.

**Continue….**

**Tlazohcamati huel miac!!!!**


	5. Tears of sin

**Cualli Tonalli!!!!!!!!**

**Mi first history in english.**

**Chapter 5**

**Tears of sin**

Notre Dame de la Garde de Nuit was (as he always had thought) the most perfect building in Marseille. His footsteps created an echo in the empty building and, as he passed, he felt the immortal stare of the saints that watched the congregation from their altars. At the beginning of the atrium, he saw a white silhouette with the head covered by a large veil, praying on its knees in the altar. He remained still, watching her with devotion, fighting against himself to approach.

The silhouette of a man dressed in a habit approached the main corridor. Monte Cristo hid behind one of the construction's columns, and watched attentively the events at a prudent distance, which allowed him to listen.

-----------------------------------

She observed that priest approaching, that childhood friend, her only confident. She stood up smiling shyly, while the man stretched his hand to cross her delicately.

"In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti" the voice of that man was fluid and deep, strange in someone too young to be a priest. "Amen"

He must not be older than forty years old; his dark brown hair was short, and the white robe he wore made his skin look clearer. In the front of the robe, the holy image of the cross could be seen, a representation of Christ's resurrection.

"Amen" she answered, while placing her lips delicately on the sign of the cross. Kneeling again, she lowered her head and felt the tears come to her eyes.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned" she said with low, broken voice, but strong enough for that silent witness to hear. Monte Cristo shuddered when he heard her say the words.

"My child" answered the priest, while placing his hand over the woman's head. "What kind of sin have you committed that forces you to come here every day to confess before me?"

A sob escaped the Catalan's lips, breaking the heart of the two men listening.

"The most horrible sin I've committed, father…" she answered with pain, "… is to live"

The air escaped rudely of Dantes' lips, and the priest pursed his lips with strength.

"My dear, life is the most precious gift our Father has given us" he said with harsh air, "Never say that of the gift the Lord has given you!"

The church filled with Mercedes' sobs, and the priest hard expression disappeared. "What has happened to you, to make you think your life is a sin?"

"I've hurt the ones I love, I've allowed people to suffer around me; I've broken promises and gave my back to those who needed me…" the Catalan said immediately, while taking big breaths, "… I've lived only to hurt others, and my life is not worth anything, nor does it care to anyone"

"For that, father, for that I say I'm a sinner and that someone like me deserves hell, even if my life its one already… because I'm condemned, I'm cursed, because I should have died long ago, I should have died that time, sunken in the sea"

The hand of the priest forced her to raise her head and look him in the eyes; they were not cold or indifferent, but comprehensive and warm. He caressed tenderly the woman's hair.

"You have went through so much, dear child; I, who know you since I can remember and have prayed for your happiness, know it better than anyone" of Mercedes' dark eyes came out two silent tears, followed by strong sobs.

"I…" continued the priest, remembering a day so long ago, "… who, being still a seminarian, a student in the monastery, prevented you from jumping out of the cliff when you beloved Edmund was taken away, preventing you to condemn yourself. Do you believe your life and soul are not important to me?"

Mercedes lowered her head again, moaning in pain. Monte Cristo was paralyzed in his place, unable even to breathe.

"Why should you care about me? It is not right for a man of God to care for a cursed soul, a soul like mine" she answered coldly.

"How can a soul as pure and beautiful as yours be cursed?" it seemed the pries was trying to change the woman's view, and was determined to succeed.

"I've killed…" she answered, looking elsewhere. "… maybe not directly, but I've allowed it… doesn't that makes me as guilty as the one who takes the gun and shoots?"

"I've lied… to myself, to the child that's everything to me in this world, and to the one who was once my father; I lied too to the man I loved and still love, but above all I've lied to God, for wanting Him to see me as a victim"

"I've cursed the Lord for condemning me, and I've cursed the ones who hurt me, even when their reasons were totally justified. I've wished the worst for those who deserve happiness, because I don't have it. And I've wished paradise for me, knowing that I deserve the worst of punishments"

"I've…" Mercedes interrupted herself, keeping her last and biggest sin because, as evil as it was, it had allowed her to go on, until that day, her last day. "I've… sinned"

The echo of her words filled the church, digging in the heart of her beloved. The priest looked at her and, patting her head, sighed.

"Every man and woman has sinned once, we're free to do it and realize then that we've been wrong, but for that our Father loves us, for that He forgives us, because he made us at his image and knows we can fail" he answered lightly.

"He guides us in our lives, no matter how hard it is; your only duty, Mercedes, is to be strong, to endure what's happening to you and realize your mistakes and repent of them. That way the Lord will see in you someone wise and faithful, and He will open the gates of Heaven to your tortured soul"

Mercedes said no more, looked away and, deep within, she asked forgiveness for being coward and for not whishing to go on.

---------------------------------------------

He saw her standing up, and after kissing the priest's hand she went out of the church with firm steps. Monte Cristo remained standing, surprised for what he'd heard, speechless for her confession.

"My child" said a voice behind him, and when he turned was surprised by the priest's brown gaze. He knew him.

He remembered vaguely a boy his age, with the same brown eyes and a beautiful smile, a boy who dreamed with becoming a priest and always prayed for his father's, his and Mercedes' happiness. He was there when he was arrested, and he remembered seeing tears coming down his face when the police took him. He grabbed tenderly the hand of Morrel, his old boss.

The priest analyzed his face slowly and, after hiding a recognition look, he smiled.

"Father" Dantes answered with enough seriousness to hide the surprise he felt, and then kissed the priest's hand. When he raised his head, he noticed the young man smiled, content.

"That poor woman is so tormented, but our Father the Lord always knows how to reward those who suffer, don't you think?" asked the priest innocently and, after receiving a nod from the brunette, turned around and left.

Dantes turned to exit, but before leaving he heard the priest that, with firm and happy voice, said to him:

"Take care, Edmund"

**Continue….**

**Tlazohcamati huel miac!!!!**


	6. Salvation

**Cualli Tonalli!!!!!!!!**

**Mi first history in english.**

**Chapter 6**

**Salvation**

He went out of the building, not before crossing himself; once outside, he turned in every direction searching for the Catalan's silhouette, and found her walking upstreet, towards the viewpoint.

How many times had he gone there to see the sun set? How many times had he made her laugh there, and how many had she cried hugging him? It was there where their courtship ended, and he'd proposed to her, kissing her for the first time. How many wonderful and painfully pleasant memories!

He must be a masochist, a madman! Was it normal to feel happiness after knowing the sadness Mercedes had lived with ever since the eve of their wedding? How could he feel happy after seeing that she loved him still, despite de damage? His love had only brought her misfortune! And now, he was back to hurt her even more. Because he didn't love her anymore, did he?

He found her standing in the viewpoint, with her hands on the rail and her sight fixed in the sea; her hair, free over her back, moved with the wind that blew on her face. She seemed thoughtful, and sometimes frowned. The place was empty, and it was no later than middle day.

Here he was, struggling against himself again, deciding whether to approach or not. A part of him told him to leave, that she was fine, that things must continue that way and that he shouldn't cause her more pain than she already suffered. Another part, the smaller but more tempting one, begged him to approach, to take her in his arms and ask her forgiveness; that part told him there was hope, that they both could stop their suffering.

Monte Cristo clenched his fist, confused: He couldn't, he couldn't approach. What could he do for that poor woman, except giving her false hope? Even if he wished to give her a little, even a little, sign of hope.

His head was in turmoil, and his heart stopped beating regularly when he saw what she was doing.

-------------------------------------------

It was time, finally the moment had arrived. After all… why live in a personal inferno, when one can condemn oneself to the sinner's hell? That couldn't not be worse than the one she suffered every day!

She sighed, placing both hands over the stone trail; she climbed in it remembering that no one would come to save her: not that kind priest, nor her son. Especially not him.

No, he wouldn't come; he wouldn't return.

She looked the sea in front of her, the waves broke in the rocs with strength, but that didn't scare her. She thought about her son, her beloved Albert. She'd lived only for him, he was her only reason to live, and now he'd gone in search of his own destiny.

She opened her arms, reciting a prayer, and her eyes filled with tears. She thought about her parents, and asked forgiveness. She thought about the good man Dantes, father of her beloved Edmund, and apologized too. She thought about Fernand, and cursed him, telling him they'll soon meet in hell.

And smiled when her last and most valued memory came to her. Her beloved friend, her true love.

"One must die where has been happier" lastly, she closed her eyes, and let go.

---------------------------------------------

Paralyzed as he was, he couldn't understand what was happening; she was standing there, about to jump out of the cliff. He saw her smile with true happiness. And when her lips opened, he panicked.

"Forgive me, Edmund…" she said, while he watched her cristal tears running down her cheeks. "… good bye, my love"

He saw her lean to the front, to launch herself head first towards the rocks. And his body reacted. He ran to her, while inside him the uncertainty disappeared. Suddenly, he remembered what his good friend Dumas had said to him the night before:

"Maybe you don't want to realize it, my friend…" Dumas sighed. "…but, sooner or later, you will"

"I know it is hard, my dear, but I hope you realize the truth… before it's too late"

Too late… late.

Realize. Realize what?... that he loved her, he really loved her. Realize that what he'd felt for her had not disappeared in those two decades they'd been apart; or that his heart was beating hard when he saw her in Paris. That, secretly, he had dreamed with returning to Marseille, to take her in his arms and kiss her. Because he loved Haydée, that was true, but what he felt for Mercedes had never ended, had never been gone.

He felt his footsteps were slow, and it seemed to him that he was seeing the scene from other angle. He ran towards the Catalan, and in his face could be seen the most terrified expression. She fell lightly, as if she didn't weight anything, and the white dress moved around her.

He stretched his hand, as if that way he could erase the distance separating him from her, as if that way he could stop the fall, and then he screamed her name.

"Mercedes!" his voice seemed strange to him; a fragile, painful but firm sound. "Mercedes!"

She opened her eyes and, as if the fall was not imminent, turned her face to see the man that with all his strength reached for her.

"Edmund?" Mercedes lips mover but no voice came out. She stretched her hand, trying to reach the hand that man offered, that… illusion.

And time recovered its rhythm, the fall seemed fast but his hand was faster. He felt again the warmth of her body, and felt amazed at how light she was.

He pulled her against him to take her down the rail, causing their bodies to crash, and Mercedes let out a gasp. Their breaths were heavy; he because of the effort, she because of the surprise.

After some seconds, that seemed eternal for both of them, they separated; Mercedes raised her head, fearful and shuddering, thinking she'd finally lost her mind. And her eyes met with the dark tone of his.

"Mercedes" Monte Cristo murmured while looking at her directly. He saw her lips open, and she fell limp on his arms.

**Continue….**

**Tlazohcamati huel miac!!!!**


	7. Encounter

**Cualli Tonalli!!!!!!!!**

**Mi first history in english.**

**Chapter 7**

**Encounter**

She opened her eyes slowly, totally confused… Had it been a dream? It had seemed so real, so glorious. She heard someone breathing against her and turned to see who it was.

Her eyes met with the face of a child, a beautiful child who watched her intently while she slept.

"Bonjour" the child whispered, while his round face illuminated with the biggest of smiles; the kind of smile full with joy and innocence that only children possess.

Mercedes looked at him intently, and unsure she raised her hand to caress the child's face; it was soft. His hair was brown and curled, and his eyes had a tone similar to honey. He was simply beautiful; he should have 5 years, no more.

"Bonjour" she answered with soft voice, as if the dream could disappear and that angel could go away. The child smiled even more and, placing his hands on the Catalan's cheeks, leaned and kissed the tip of her nose, and then he went out running and laughing.

Mercedes looked the door for which he'd left, with the strange feeling that it was all her imagination. Then she observed carefully the room she was in: it was simple, comfortable… unknown.

She was lying on a little bed and, to her right, there was a window that let in the salty scent of the sea. She tried to organize her ideas to discover the place where she was, but was unable to remember anything. She turned her face towards the entrance when she heard someone approaching.

"What happen, my dear?" a woman appeared at the other side of the door, dragged by the child that signaled the room without stopping smiling.

The boy let go of her hand and, laughing, ran to the bed where Mercedes laid. The long brown haired woman opened her mouth, amazed, when she understood her son's insistency.

"You've awoken" she approached with slow steps, and a sweet smile on her lips. "How do you feel?"

Mercedes looked at her with absent expression, and examined her face without answering; the beautiful woman's smile tensed and, blushing, evaded the Catalan's eyes.

"You must be confused" she said calmly, while intertwining her hands in the apron she wore. "I better go search for him; he'll explain"

"It won't be necessary, Julia my dear" someone said from the door; both women turned, and Mercedes stopped breathing.

"Oh, Mr. Dantes!" the woman exclaimed with a big smile, while approaching the place where he was. "I was about to go look for you!"

Monte Cristo smiled and, after caressing the woman's cheek, shook his head.

"I thank you, dear, but…" Dantes fixed his eyes on Mercedes, who was still in the bed. "… would you mind leaving me alone for some minutes with the lady?"

Mercedes saw as the beautiful woman shook her head and, after smiling, looked at her face. "Please, don't doubt calling me if you need something. Anything"

Mercedes nodded softly, and watched the fair lady turn to leave.

-----------------------------------------

"Come on, honey" said Julia while stretching her hand to her son. Monte Cristo was surprised to see reluctance in his honey stare; the boy looked at his mother's hand from Mercedes' bed, where he was sitting. "Come on"

The child turned and looked at Mercedes for some seconds while frowning; it was funny to see that the boy had grown fond of the Catalan just by watching her sleep.

"Go on, my dear, go with your mom" the brunette gave him a beautiful motherly smile. The boy smiled and left the room running, with his mother behind him.

Both watched the door close, just after the boy said goodbye with a gesture of his hand. And the room was filled with absolute silence.

Monte Cristo turned to face the woman in the bed; the look she gave him was full of questions and fear. However, she didn't evaded him for a single second, as if fearing he could disappear if she did.

He walked slowly to the bed, and clumsily sat on the chair at its side. They both looked at each other in silence.

There was no discomfort or pain… they just stared intently, as if communicating with their eyes. He saw her tilt her head, and her hair spread over the pillow; he intertwined his hands on his lap.

"Is this really happening?" she asked softly. Monte Cristo nodded. They looked at each other for some more seconds while she sat slowly over the white sheets.

"How can it be possible?" she asked again but, this time, her voice broke.

"I came back to Marseille… for you" Edmund answered while looking at her intently. Mercedes evaded his eyes, turning her head.

"Why?" the Catalan wanted to escape the man's stare; her voice sounded hurt, detached.

Forgetting any logic, Monte Cristo took her hand. And she turned back with surprised expression.

"I came back…" he whispered, while holding her hand with sweetness. "… to ask your forgiveness"

Dantes saw as the words stuck in Mercedes' mouth, as she looked at him without understanding and her eyes filled with tears.

"Forgiveness?" she repeated almost without voice. "Why should you ask for my forgiveness?"

Monte Cristo raised their intertwined hands and kissed hers softly. From the eyes of the woman, a pair of tears came out.

"Forgive me…" he continued, without taking his eyes away from her. "… for condemning you to this torture"

"Forgive me for hurting you" he continued, feeling the pain of her look and hearing her stop breathing.

"Forgive me for…" his heart beat strongly in his chest, and he could feel the Catalan's pulse in his hands; both were fast and painfully pleasant.

"Forgive me for loving you, even after hurting you so much"

The room was filled for the first time in an uncomfortable silence, and Mercedes' hand trembled slightly. Suddenly, the sobs started on the Catalan's chest and, letting go of Monte Cristo's hand, covered her face.

---------------------------------------------------

She cried. She cried because what was happening couldn't be true and because it was what she desired the most in the whole world. She cried because Edmund being there was impossible and, however, it was true.

"Mercedes…" Edmund whispered at her side, and she refused to look at him. She was still hiding her face in her hands, and her sobs were stuck in her throat. "… please…"

She shook her head, and looked at him gathering the last remains of her courage. In those few seconds, she memorized his face, to remember him always.

"Why should I forgive you for something I deserved?" she answered, and saw the light of pain in her beloved's eyes. "You can't take responsibility of my punishment, because I've earned it"

"You accepted a punishment you didn't even deserve!" he exclaimed, with furious eyes and tensed jaw. "Something that was unfair!"

"No, it is not unfair" she answered, while watching him with an empty look. "Is what a sinner like me deserves"

"Sinner?" he jumped, while traversing her with his dark stare. "That you're human doesn't make you a sinner!"

"To feel don't makes you a demon!" he continued with fury and passion. "And I, finally, have understood it"

Monte Cristo's voice became sweet, and Mercedes felt as he dragged her closer, how he pressed her against his chest, how his breath was lost in her hair.

"Finally… I understand you, my love"

-----------------------------------------

They remained in that room for hours; he talked about his life in that year of absence and how he'd decided to return after realizing his mistake. How he'd tracked her for a while and the things he'd discovered while following her.

Mercedes listened without saying a word, trying to assimilate that he'd come for her, and that he still loved her.

"When I saw you jump…" said Monte Cristo at last, lowering his eyes. "… I thought it was all over"

Silence returned again, caressing the man's final confession, a man that for the first time felt released from his past. Because now he wanted to see the future, and wanted Mercedes to be in it.

"I've told you all this, because I want you to be with me…" he continued, intertwining his hands. "… just as it should have been some time ago"

Edmund looked at Mercedes, and saw great confusion in her eyes. He kissed her hand again and, placing it against his cheek, sighed.

"I'm not asking for an immediate answer… I just want you to think about it" they both looked at each other for some time. He could feel Mercedes' soft skin against his face.

"Give me a couple of days, Edmund" asked the woman, lowering her head. "Then I'll give you my answer"

"So be it, my love!" he answered, while caressing her face, and then leaved the room. "And come what may"

**Continue….**

**Tlazohcamati huel miac!!!!**


	8. Simbad the sailor

**Cualli Tonalli!!!!!!!!**

**Mi first history in english.**

**Chapter 8**

**Simbad the sailor**

The next day the sun shone shyly, there was a storm coming. Ali helped him to get ready, and then he prepared to have breakfast with the masters of the house.

He'd arrived to the house of his good friend Morrel, that fair soldier, son of his old and most beloved boss. He smiled without enthusiasm when he realized the turn his life had taken and remembering how he'd arrived there:

--------------------------------------------

Maximilian Morrel was returning to his home after visiting his father's grave and that of the good man Dantes. The afternoon had arrived, and the sky was turning orange; it was beautiful.

He remained standing, watching the sky with indifference, knowing that in a day like this one his beloved father, his great Monte Cristo had returned to him his life by returning his Valentine.

A year had passed since then, and he still waited for the moment when his good and most faithful friend would visit him. Who would have thought that his wish would be granted in that moment?

He entered his house, the same in which his father had received the miracle the 5 of September. And the place where "Sinbad the sailor" appeared. This was his home, along with his beloved wife, his sister Julia and his brother-in-law Manuel.

Not too long after closing the door, a childish voice welcomed him:

"Uncle Maximilian!" he saw his nephew running towards him, a beautiful child with his brother-in-law's eyes and his sister's locks.

He extended his arms and, after receiving the child, kissed his cheek. He hugged him strongly against his chest, and smiled when he heard the boy laugh.

"How have you behaved today?" he asked while lowering the child, grabbing him by the shoulders. The boy smiled even more and took Maximilian's hand to pull him.

"We have visits, uncle!" the little boy exclaimed with enthusiasm, while he attempted to take the man to the living room. "A man has come to see you"

Maximilian looked confused at the child and, taking him in his arms again, walked towards the room; the boy moved insistently, and invited him with his tiny hands to walk faster.

When he entered the room, he couldn't help but remain still while looking at the scene with increasing adoration. Valentine was sitting with her swollen belly in front of the guest, and was taking the man's hand with devotion. In the big armchair was his sister, who dried her eyes with a handkerchief while her husband Manuel hugged her. The man with dark hair and wise eyes looked at him and, standing up, approached him with soft steps.

Maximilian lowered his nephew, and examined the face of his dear friend. After looking at him for some seconds, the soldier realized it was not an illusion.

"My son" Monte Cristo said sweetly, and extended his hand with a big smile. Morrel took his hand and, feeling tears in his eyes, hugged the man.

"Father, my dear father!" he answered while the two of them hugged each other with emotion and love; Julia's sobs were full of joy. "My beloved friend!"

They separated and looked at each other, then smiled and walked towards the armchair.

--------------------------------------------------

A knock in his door took him out of his mind, those shy knocks could belong to only a person. He indicated Ali to open, and the man obeyed.

"Good morning!" said Julia politely while entering with a big smile. "We're waiting you to go down and have breakfast, Monsieur"

"Thank you, Cherie! I'll be down in a minute" said Monte Cristo, returning her smile. She turned and leaved.

He was going down the stairs when the child's voice caught his attention.

"Monsieur! Monsieur!" the boy exclaimed from the end of the corridor, near the door to the dinning room. He smiled and moved his little arms to catch his attention. "This way, Monsieur!"

The child approached, taking the man's hand, and guided him to the room. He was really cute, and seemed to enjoy having so many visitors in his home; Monte Cristo had become quite fond of him.

"Edmund, what are you doing?" asked Manuel when Monte Cristo and the boy entered. The child laughed with sweetness and, hugging Dantes' leg, hid behind it from his father's stare.

It was still hard for Dantes to assimilate the fact that beautiful creature had been named after him; when he asked about it, the Morrels had only answered:

"It is a great name, and for us it was an honor to name him after the person whom we owe our happiness"

He still remembered blushing at those words, and thanking them with contained emotion; the boy seemed amused by the fact they both had the same name, and he always asked if someday he'll be like the good Monsieur Dantes.

Monte Cristo sat, watching the people accompanying him. He smiled to the beautiful Valentine that, even with an advanced pregnancy, looked like a porcelain doll. He looked at his dear Maximilian, so brave and honest, just like his father –the old Morrel- had been.

Julia and Manuel, who despite the years seemed as in love as when they were younger; the sweet Edmund Morrel, the little and bright future of the bank but, above all, he watched her.

Mercedes was at his side, with her head down and absent look. She didn't raise her head in any moment during breakfast; it seemed she still had a lot to think of, and Edmund waited anxiously for her choice.

"I'm so sorry to be a burden to you!" Monte Cristo said after finishing. "I don't know how to thank you; what you've done for me these days… I will be eternally grateful!"

"You must not thank us, my dear friend!" Maximilian answered with sweetness. "This is your home, and you can come whenever you want, and stay the time you wish"

"Thank you, dear Maximilian, to you and your beautiful wife; also thank you to you, Julia and Manuel!" Dantes smiled. "but I'm afraid the time for me to leave draws closer"

Mercedes raised her eyes from the table, and fixed them on Monte Cristo; they both exchanged looks in which he begged her for an answer to his petition. The woman nodded.

"So soon?" asked Valentine, with sad expression. "Couldn't you stay a little more?"

Dantes stood up and, approaching her, took the girl's hand and kneeled. They both stared at each other for some seconds. The rest of the guest watched attentively at the scene.

"I must go, darling. But I promise you to return to see the beautiful being you'll bring to this world. You'll see, I'll be the first one… after his father, to know him"

The woman smiled, kissing Monte Cristo's hand.

"We'll wait, we'll wait forever!"

**Continue….**

**Tlazohcamati huel miac!!!!**


	9. Our past, our future

**Cualli Tonalli!!!!!!!!**

**Mi first history in english.**

**Chapter 9**

**Our past, our future**

He walked through the corridor that led to Mercedes' room. For a moment, he thought he was a boy again; he could feel the frantic beating of his heart against his ribs, and his labored breathing due to the excitement of the moment. He was totally in love, like when he was 19.

He doubted in front of the door, and his hand trembled slightly before knocking. He gave three soft knocks and waited; in his head hundreds of questions arose: what if she rejected him? What if she said she didn't want to know more about him? He doubted he could bear the pain. He didn't wish to be alone again, and feared that would be the case if Mercedes rejected him.

"Come in" answered the Catalan's sweet voice, and the questions were forgotten, exchanged by a simple childish emotion.

He turned the handle and opened the door slowly; there, he found in front of him the most incredible image he expected to see: Mercedes, his dear friend, was standing in front of the window, wearing a blue dress and with her hair tied up in a simple but sophisticated design. He felt the same that when he saw her in Paris with that white dress, her hair tied up and her face subtly covered with make-up. In both encounters, he thought an angel was looking at him, but this time he smiled.

"Edmund…" she murmured while looking at him; for a moment, Dantes felt like blushing, and he felt like a child again.

"I came to ask you…" he said after a while, while swallowing to eliminate the lump in his throat. "… if you'd like to go out for a walk with me?"

A profound silence fell over the room, and for a moment Monte Cristo refused to look in her eyes. He felt surprised to see a hand stretched in front of him and, raising his head, his surprise became happiness when he saw the woman smile at him sweetly.

"Would you be so kind as to lend me your arm, Count?" he smiled openly, recognizing the phrase, the same she'd used during a party, the same that guided them to that beautiful greenhouse under the full moon.

He looked at her directly in the eyes, and for a moment he felt himself shuddering with joy. Smiling, he extended his arm to the woman.

"Every time you wish, my love!" they exited the room, looking at each other.

---------------------------------------------

They walked for hours without saying a word, just enjoying each other's company. A moment ago, the temperature had dropped a little, and Monte Cristo covered Mercedes with his cape, embraced her and felt her fragrance. The woman thanked the gesture and, after hugging his again, they continued their walk.

They arrived to the beach, where the Chateau D'If was visible, and remained there watching that terrifying building while each one thought about how to answer the other's doubts.

"How horrible was it?" Mercedes suddenly asked. Edmund turned and was surprised to see her pained expression. He looked towards the same place she did and shuddered.

"It is still hard for me to sleep. Sometimes, at night, I dream I'm a prisoner again, that my bed is small and cold, and that rats are my only company"

Silence surrounded them again, but it was tainted with sadness. They looked the horrible castle again, that prison where few had entered and many had exhaled their last breaths. The fortress that had separated them for years.

"How horrible was it?" he then asked her; they stared at each other for some seconds, and Mercedes lowered her head.

"I thought I'll die from the pain, that I'll become mad with sadness…" she answered, pressing her hand in his arm. "… I felt so afraid that…"

Monte Cristo placed a finger over Mercedes' red lips; he didn't want her to say she was evil for marrying Fernand, that she was a sinner because she felt afraid. Her eyes shone while both watched each other in silence. It was as if an invisible force were between them, attracting them like two magnets.

"Please, Mercedes…" he begged, taking the brunette's hands. "… please, tell me your answer"

He saw her evade his eyes and his heart collapsed with pain; the strength with which he took her hands diminished and pressed his jaw to prevent a bitter laugh to come out. Of course she didn't want to come with him! How fool he felt!

She rejected his hands and gave his back to him, admiring the sea and the three islands that created the port: I'f, which land was occupied by that horrible prison; the little Daume and Tiboulen, which guarded and protected the biggest of them. Monte Cristo heard her sigh.

"Every night…" she started with low voice. "… ever since I was told you'd taken the place of a dead prisoner to escape and that, when you trew the body, you screamed…"

"When I was told you died traversed by the rocks and sank in the waves… every night, the only thing I did was to dream about your fall; I had nightmares, and in them I saw you falling to the sea, I heard you scream my name, and I always awoke with tears and covered in sweat"

Monte Cristo approached doubtfully, and stopped next to the Catalan, watching her face… empty, drawn, but still beautiful. In that moment he wished she accepted, that she told him she'll be with him.

"Other nights…" she continued, breaking Dantes' thoughts. "… I dreamed I ran through the Cannebière; I could feel the beating of my heart, so strong I thought it would break my chest. I turned to Noalles and I saw your father when arriving to Meillan… my father, that great old man that hugged me with the love he would show a daughter…"

"… in the dream, he hugged me with strength and, looking at my face with a big smile, told me you were there, waiting for me in your little house. And I ran again… I climbed the stairs and, when I opened the door, you received me with sweetness, with love and despair. We hugged, and I cried in your chest…"

"And what did I tell you in the dream?" Edmund asked with low, sweet voice. Mercedes turned her face towards him and smiled, allowing two tears to run down her cheeks.

They intertwined their hands softly, not breaking their eye contact.

"What did I tell you, my dear?" he asked again, caressing her cheek with his thumb in a futile attempt to erase the tears in her face.

"… You told me that: you loved me…" she answered, low but clearly. "… you asked me to wait, and that someday you'll return to me"

They remained silent, while the wind started to blow. Mercedes closed her eyes and lowered her face, hiding it from the stare of the one she loved.

"I woke up broken… with my heart more broken than it ever had been" she continued, and her voice broke in the last word. "… in that moment, I thought you were dead, Edmund. How could you ask me to wait if you were no longer alive…?"

"I didn't want to wait, I didn't want to continue if it wasn't with you… so I decided to end my life"

The air escaped with strength from Monte Cristo's lips, he saw Mercedes smile with sadness and a trace of bitter amusement. "Like in this time, my plans were frustrated… that time, when I chose to end my life, it was religion what saved me"

"A young friend, who studied to be a priest, stopped me saying you would have wished for me to be happy… and there my mistake begun"

"Despite everything, I kept dreaming with you… and the day we met in Paris, the day you really returned to me, you weren't mine anymore"

"When I saw you standing… always young, always beautiful… I realized I had failed you. That night in July, do you remember it? When we went out to walk in the greenhouse, and you refused to eat with me, I felt for the first time that I died"

Monte Cristo remembered with beautiful clarity that night, and shuddered realizing her thoughts. How much damage he'd caused.

"It's been so long since I started dreaming about you… since we saw again, and since I believed I'd lost you forever. And now you're here. Asking me to accept returning to you, asking me to love you… begging me, as if sometime I'd stopped loving you …"

They looked at each other, and hope returned to Monte Cristo's heart; he wanted to speak, he wanted to laugh… he wanted to kiss her, but did nothing.

"I'm afraid, Edmund…" Mercedes confessed with soft voice. "… I'm afraid that this might be a dream, and that the moment I say 'yes' to you I'll wake up and be alone again"

"Because my selfishness is greater than my idea of what's good… because I love you and need you more than ever, more than anyone. Because I know that, if you stay with me, the only thing I'll do is hurt you…"

Monte Cristo shook his head while with his hand covered her mouth. He fixed his eyes in the woman's, and felt he drowned in blackness.

"If we're talking about selfishness, my love… it is I who should be called the best" Edmund watched Mercedes with infinitively comprehension.

"I'm selfish, for asking you to come with me… for returning after a long time, for not understanding you, for being happy to know you never stopped loving me… for wishing so much to kiss you…" he caressed her lips with his thumb.

"But if you call yourself selfish, then selfishness seems to me the most beautiful thing that can exist… because our selfishness has made me happy after a long time"

He took Mercedes' face in his hands delicately, with love. They both watched each other, full of answers and hope.

"Mercedes Herrera…" Edmund said solemnly, and remembered that time when he'd proposed to her. "… would you come to Orient with me?"

Two crystal tears ran down her cheeks, and she looked at her beloved with a smile.

"I would go with you to the end of the world"

A big smile illuminated both hearts; Monte Cristo approached doubtfully to Mercedes' face and, looking at her, pressed his lips against hers. They kissed like when they were younger, full of love and need… because their lips showed how much they'd missed each other, and how happy they were for not separating anymore.

They were finally together, like it should have been from the beginning.

-------------------------------------------

They disembarked in a beautiful port full of mystery and elegance. Mercedes looked impressed at the beauty of the place, and Monte Cristo clutched her hand softly. Edmund approached and, after pressing his lips softly against the woman's, smiled.

"Welcome to Orient, my love!"

**Continue….**

**Tlazohcamati huel miac!!!!**


	10. We’ll trust and wait for the future!

**Cualli Tonalli!!!!!!!!**

**Mi first history in english.**

**Final chapter**

**We'll trust and wait for the future!**

He was terrified, and contented himself with walking for the corridor. Sometimes he stood in front of the wooden door and suppressed his desire to enter and see what was happening… but, whenever he tried, Ali stopped him.

He bit his lip insistently, and passed his fingers by his hair; If he hadn't any news soon, he would go mad!

"You seem nervous, Count…" said a familiar voice with happy and mocking air; he stopped walking and turned.

Maximilian Morrel offered him a glass of wine, while in his face was a huge charming smile. Edmund accepted the drink and sat, while his beloved son imitated him.

It had passed a year since Monte Cristo and Mercedes had gone to Orient, a years since they started their life together. They both had invited the Morrels after that, according to his promise, Edmund went to know the first born of the soldier and Valentine: a beautiful child with red hair and wise eyes that was named after the good father Morrel, the old and most beloved boss of Monte Cristo.

"Its just that I don't know what to do, I'm…" Monte Cristo started to say while turning to the room were his beloved Mercedes was.

"Terrified" completed a soft, charming voice; both men turned to see Julia, always so beautiful and honest. Next to her, little Edmund watched them confused.

The boy seeing that Dantes was staring at him, smiled. Monte Cristo saw the child approach and, after sitting him on his lap, felt as the boy braced his neck with his tiny arms and laughed, joyful. He returned the hug, searching in the innocent creature the patience he needed.

"You must not fear, my father…" Julia approached and, kneeling in front of him, caressed his face sweetly. "… enjoy this experience, because there is nothing compared to the joy you're about to discover"

Maximilian's hand placed on his shoulder, and Monte Cristo buried his face on Edmund's little shoulder. He breathed, trying to assimilate the moment, to test the experience; then, he heard a door opening.

He raised his face and found many smiling faces; to his dear Betuccio and Baptiste. He saw Ali going out of the room followed by Valentine, who launched into his arms when she saw him. Monte Cristo stood up, leaving little Edmund with Julia, and hugged the red-haired girl with strength.

"Oh, my father!" the girl exclaimed, looking into his eyes. "It is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen!"

Edmund remained standing, confused and with a lump in his throat. He looked to the group and, swallowing, entered the room slowly.

He breathed with difficulty, but he could appreciate the moment with infinite clarity. He felt the strangely bittersweet taste of happiness in his mouth, and his heart beat strong and healthy in his chest. It was then when he saw her.

Mercedes laid in the huge bed of the room, in her face there were small sweat drops and her long hair feel over the pillow where she laid her head. She smiled when she saw him enter and delicately extended her hand towards him.

Edmund remained still when he saw the little creature her beloved had in her arms, the little bundle of purple fabric that breathed slowly. Mercedes took his hand, and dragged him to her.

"Edmund…" she said, with a beautiful smile on her face. "… come, Edmund. Come to see your daughter"

With extreme care, afraid to awake such small miracle, Monte Cristo sat next to his wife and, kissing her forehead, looked with surprise at the baby, born only minutes ago. The child was deeply asleep and in her mouth there was a small and surprising smile.

"She's beautiful!" he whispered, pressing himself closer to Mercedes while caressing his daughter's cheek with a hand. It was soft and warm… just like her mother's. He sighed when the baby moved, reacting to his hand's contact.

A soft, musical laugh caught his attention, and turned his face to Mercedes with questioning look. The Catalan looked at him with a strange light in her eyes.

"I already chose a name for her, Edmund…" she said with a smile, slightly blushed.

"What name is it?" he asked, confused but anxious to know the name his wife considered fitting for such a miraculous creature.

For a moment, silence remained, and Monte Cristo allowed himself to see the baby attentively: her features were her mother's; slightly brown skin and big eyes; her lips were thin, and a small lock of black hair fell over her forehead. He felt happy to notice those two last features were his.

"Haydée" Mercedes whispered after a while, and Monte Cristo felt his heart jump. He smiled, looking in the eyes of the woman.

"It's perfect!" he extended his arms and, taking the baby in his arms, walked around the room with a dreamy smile.

"Haydée…" he whispered, and kissed the newborn's forehead. "… I'll love you forever, my child"

He smiled when he felt the baby took his index finger, smiling in dreams. He turned his face to Mercedes.

"I love you!" she moved her lips slowly, articulating the words without letting out a single sound, afraid of interrupting the magic of the moment. She saw as her beloved smiled to her, and watched him return to her side in the bed.

"And I love you!" he whispered, before kissing the brunette's lips.

The joy they shared at that moment was impossible to describe, it was a happiness they believed lost and they had managed to recover together; because this was the right thing, because they were meant to be together and, finally, they were.

**THE END**

**This story is dedicated to my grandfather Jorge Fernandez, who always encouraged me to learn and taught me the pleasure of reading. I love you, grandpa!**

**Here it is, finally the climax has arrived. I thank you all of you who gave me a little of your time to read my story. I really hope you like the end, personally I like it a lot. I'll wait for your opinions.**

**Thanks for joining me in this trip! And remember: "The human wisdom is resumed in two words: Trust and wait!"**

**Continue….**

**Tlazohcamati huel miac!!!!**


End file.
